


Like we do this every day

by Thunderhel



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderhel/pseuds/Thunderhel
Summary: Dustin caught sight of himself in the mirror, and had to agree his eyeliner was smudging in the corner of his right eye, and was almost completely gone from his upper lid on his left. Tater could have just been a bro and told him, and then Dustin could have just fixed it himself, but nothing could ever be that easy with Tater.





	Like we do this every day

**Author's Note:**

> God Bless thelady-mondegreen on tumblr for giving me the prompt "Tater helping Snowy with his eyeliner". This is my favorite pairing right now and I love it so much. I wrote this over the course of like three days and it's unedited and I'm sorry. 
> 
> -ALSO Ngozi said Snowy's name is Dustin Snow, I did not make that up. I wouldn't do my boy dirty like that but I guess we all gotta live with this now.

“Your makeup is smudge.” 

Dustin elected to down the shot in his hand before he voiced his concern with the statement Tater had decided to breathe directly into his ear. “What?” 

Tater laughed in that way he did, with his entire body, shoulders shaking and head tilted back. The commotion around them, of people pressing past them and handing off drinks and pressuring various platters of whatever anyone brought was loud, but it was easy to be heard. A comfortable sort of chaos that Dustin felt himself relaxing into as the first two shots he took began to settle under his skin. Still, Tater seemed to feel the need to close the gap in their height, to lean down and speak directly in Dustin’s ear again. 

“Your eye makeup.” He emphasized his meaning by pointing at his own eye. “Needs fixed.”

Dustin swatted away Tater’s hand, even if he was touching his own face and not Dustin’s. It took everything in him not to immediately try to locate a mirror and see if Tater was being serious or not. A very important part of his daily look was the impression behind it, namely that he didn’t care what he looked like. The fact that he cared very deeply was a secret he was keeping close to his chest in an attempt to make himself seem far more indifferent than he was. 

“Don’t call it makeup. It’s eyeliner left over from the game. Helps me see the puck better, you fucking know that.”

Tater hummed, raising his eyebrows and taking a drink from his beer and then taking his time inspecting the label in a theatrical display of nonchalance. “I’m see,” he said finally and Dustin rolled his eyes, knowing a chirp was coming. “But see, Snowy, is strange though. Because see, we have game, and then we shower, but your eyeliner still on.” He ticked off the incidents on his fingers, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult math problem. 

“It’s that waterproof shit,” Dustin informed him, refusing to meet his eye as he stole another beer out of one of the coolers scattered around the kitchen. He didn’t recognize the brand, some local IPA with a shark on the label. 

“Oh,” Tater hummed around his own beer, nodding in understanding. “Of course.”

Dustin glared up at him. “I’m serious. It’s just for the game.” 

Tater nodded again, and though he kept his lips in a tight line, he couldn’t seem to stop them from pulling up at the corners. “Well, is good for you then. Is fading. Looks terrible.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Dustin only just managed not to flip him off as he stepped around the counter and started down the hall. There were more people than there had been in the kitchen, scattered with people he didn’t know and others he might have been able to recognize if someone else told him their names first. Distantly he realized someone was playing music, though he couldn’t tell if it was coming from another room, or if Marty had some sort of sound system throughout the house that was turned down low. 

“Where you going?” Tater challenged, predictably following right behind him into the hall.

“I’m gonna take a piss man, leave me alone.” 

At his crass comments a meticulously dressed couple, looking wildly out of place at so casual a thrown together party glared at him and it took a self restraint Dustin didn’t realize he had not to tip his hat in condescension. 

“You lie,” Tater accused, hot on his heels. “You going to fix your eyes. Make yourself all pretty.” He punctuated his point by knocking Dustin’s hat askew, enough to get his hand under it and run his thick fingers through Dustin’s hair.

“Fuck man, knock it off.” He pushed Tater’s hand away, and tried the bathroom door, only to find it locked. “Damn it.”

“Okay, give to me.” 

“Give you what?” 

Dustin only had time to turn to face his friend, busy fixing his hair where Tater had disturbed it before those big hands were suddenly on his hips. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Dustin hissed, trying to dislodge him as Tater’s hands got far too familiar patting down his hips and thighs. “Are you trying to cop a feel, man get fuck off!” His back hit the wall, rattling a painting and he could feel the eyes of the other party goers in the hallway focusing on them as he tried to thrash his way out of Tater’s grasp.

Tater didn’t let up, his hands moving up over Dustin’s abs until they came to rest at his sides and he exclaimed something in excited Russian. 

Dustin was too confused and couldn’t react fast enough to stop Tater from slipping a hand in the pocket of his hoodie and pulling out a thin black pencil. Tater lifted it up before Dustin could stop him, holding his prize aloft in victory as Dustin glared at him. 

“Is there game later I’m not know about?” He teased, wiggling the eyeliner in his hand. “You cheating on us with other team? I’m hurt, Snowy.”

Dustin held his beer close to his chest and could do little more than hang his head to hide both the growing red in his face and the helpless smile he couldn’t stop. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that right?” He managed to tilt his head, glaring at Tater out of one eye, but unable to put any malice in his voice. 

Tater ignored him in favor of turning the eyeliner over his hands to squint at the label. “You lie again, it not say waterproof.”

“Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking say it.” Dustin made another grab for it, but Tater held it easily out of his grasp. 

“Well, we see how good it is.” He abruptly turned and headed down another hall, leaving Dustin scrambling to catch up. He avoided a few collisions, and ignored the way people laughed at them as they passed. 

“Don’t fucking steal my shit, you fucking ass!”

Dustin neatly avoided slamming directly into Tater’s back when he stopped, sidestepping quickly so he was standing next to him as they stared down at the scene in front of them. Marty, Thirdy, Jack, Poots and Guy appeared to have started a game of poker on Marty’s dining room table. 

“There you two are.” Thirdy grinned up at them. 

“Do me a favor, Tater. Cough if Thirdy has good cards.” Marty winked at them with a bottle in his free hand. There were a few empty ones already on the table in front of him. 

Thirdy slammed his cards face down quickly, as if he was concerned Tater would actually do what Marty asked. 

“We need another bathroom. Is right up the stairs, da?”

“Yeah, pretty much just at the top, little to the right,” Marty answered before a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Wait, why do you both need a bathroom?” 

“Oh, we’re gonna fuck.” Dustin finished off his bottle, leaning one arm against the back of Poots’ chair. He placed it on the table with the rest of the empties and pretended not to notice when Poots choked on his own beer at the statement. “The bathroom in the hallway isn’t quite big enough, if you catch me.” 

Marty gaped at him as Thirdy rolled his eyes. Guy didn’t react, eyes still locked on his cards. He had never really found Dustin funny so it wasn’t much of a surprise. It was only after Dustin sat his beer down that he realized how his joke might have been taken. 

Dustin had no problem with Jack’s sexuality. He had been honored, really, that Jack had considered them close enough friends to share such a personal part of his life with him. He hadn’t intended for the joke to be homophobic, the punchline not that he would be with a man but that he would be with Tater, specifically. He panicked silently, trying to decide if it was best to apologize right now in front of everyone, or if Jack would just be embarrassed by that and he should catch him privately later. His fear was eased slightly as he finally got the nerve to look at Jack, and found him snickering into his sleeve. 

He figured he should probably apologize later anyway. If Dustin wasn’t brave enough to share with Jack the part of himself he’d been dying to ever since Jack came out, the least he could know was assure him he wasn’t a total ass. 

“Don’t fuck in my bathroom,” Marty told them both in a breathlessly shocked tone that surprised Dustin enough to glare at him.

“What-”

“I’m doing his face,” Tater elaborated, holding up the eyeliner. 

Marty blanched as Guy snorted.

“What the fuck - I don’t want to know what that means.” 

“Jesus, Marty, how much have you had to drink?” Dustin braced his hands on either side of Poots, ignoring the way he tilted his head to look up at him. “I’m not gonna fuck Tater.” 

“Oh don’t worry Snowy, no one thought that was the way that was gonna go down,” Thirdy chirped without looking up from his cards as the room around them descended into laughter. It took Dustin a beat too long to realize what he meant, and he felt his face heating up with something that he couldn’t blame on the mild crowd around them or his low blood alcohol content. 

“Oh, fuck you!” 

Tater was laughing, his shoulders shaking as he grabbed Dustin’s arm and began to walk him backwards out of the room. “Come on, you stalling. You beat them up later.” 

“I’ll be back,” Dustin threatened, pointing at his own eyes and then around the table in his best approximation of a threat. 

He could hear them laughing behind them as he followed Tater up the stairs, but couldn’t find it in himself to be anything close to legitimately mad. In fact, the conversation had all but faded from his mind by the time they found their way and he heard the click of the door behind him. It was spacious for a bathroom, big enough for two hockey players to fit without having to crowd against one another. 

That didn’t stop Tater from knocking their knees together as he backed Dustin up against the vanity, but he hadn’t really expected much else. Dustin caught sight of himself in the mirror, and had to agree his eyeliner was smudging in the corner of his right eye, and was almost completely gone from his upper lid on his left. Tater could have just been a bro and told him, and then Dustin could have just fixed it himself, but nothing could ever be that easy with Tater.

“You’re gonna fucking take my eye out,” Dustin complained, closing one eye in anticipation as Tater uncapped the pencil and inspected the point. “You know I’m not allowed to play with one eye, right?” 

Tater rolled his eyes and shoved at Dustin’s shoulder until he was angled properly under the light, and took his chin in his hand instead. Dustin scowled at the man handling, but crossed his arms and allowed it to happen, accepting his fate. Complaining was a pastime of his, and he liked to think he had made quite an art form of it, but as Tater was already well aware, Dustin enjoyed stupid shenanigans as much as the rest of the team. He was more than mildly curious how this would end. Not well, definitely, but he figured it would at least be interesting. 

“I’m not take your eye out, who going to be goalie then, Scotty?” 

Dustin snorted and Tater snickered at his own joke. “Well at least you’d get to go first in the draft next year.” 

Tater laughed, the eyeliner shaking dangerously close to Dustin’s eye. “Shh, he’s downstairs somewhere. Will hear you.”

“Scotty’s wouldn’t notice a puck if a toddler shot it at him, he’s not going to notice us making fun of him a floor away.” 

When Tater laughed again, Dustin swore and ducked his head to get away from the pencil. “This is such a bad fucking idea,” he said, but his voice wavered on a laugh. 

“No, is good idea. I do my sister’s makeup for her recitals when I was back home. I know what I’m doing.” Tater’s grip on his chin tightened again, tilting his head to the side. “Close your eyes.”

Dustin let out a sign, trying to relax the muscles in his face enough to let it happen. He felt the first touch of the pencil against his right eyelid and clenched his jaw in an attempt not to twitch. 

“Fuck this is weird.” 

“Shh, I make you back to your normal pretty emu self in no time.”

“Did you call me - wait did you say emu?” Dustin cracked open the eye Tater wasn’t working on to stare at him. Tater had his tongue tucked between his lips, eyes narrowed in concentration as he held Dustin’s face still. 

“Yeah, emu. Tight pants and eyeliner and floppy hair. Is style.”

“That’s emo, you idiot, and no one’s been emo since 2007. An emu is a bird.”

“Well maybe you both,” Tater continued, unbothered by the correction. “Close your eyes, you’re making it harder.” 

Dustin scowled again, his nose scrunching with the effort to keep his eyes closed as Tater moved to the other eyelid. “Why am I both now?”

“You squawk like bird.” 

“I do not!” Dustin’s retort did little to further his argument, but he held his ground against Tater’s laugh. He managed to pull away from the pencil shaking against his eye, but couldn’t escape the hold Tater still had on his face. 

“Is okay,” Tater assured him as he gently pulled his face back where he wanted it. Dustin gave one last glare before closing his eyes again. “You very cute emo bird.”

Dustin’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he gripped hard at his own forearms to keep himself still. Tater said strange things all the time, a mixture of his unrestrained outgoingness and English being his second language. Tater was just teasing him, really. He probably understood fully what he was saying and just wanted to get a rise out of Dustin. Dustin felt his mouth part, but before he could think of a response to that, he felt the pencil against the corner of his eye. 

“I’m give you wings. Make you really look like bird.” 

“Do not fucking give me wings, you dick!” Dustin jerked against his restraint and felt the cool slide of the pencil against his temple as it slipped. Tater tightened his grip and tried to hold him still. 

“Stop moving, you ruin it!” 

“You already fucked it up!” Dustin countered, finally opening his eyes and trying to get his hands between them to fight Tater off. 

“No, you look beautiful, I’m best makeup artist of whole NHL.” Tater still held onto the pencil, raised ominously in the air like he was going to strike down at any moment and impale Dustin’s eye. 

“God that’s a fucking low bar.” Dustin twisted, pushing hard on Tater’s chest with one hand, the other arm raised above him to deflect a blow, and looked at himself in the mirror. His hat was askew on his head again, his hair fluffed up and sticking in all directions, but his eyeline did actually look pretty good. That was of course with the exception of the dark jagged line running from the corner of his eye all the way into his hair. 

He frowned, turning towards Tater’s delighted smile, and narrowed his eyes. “You really think I look good?” He demanded. “This is what’s in style right now?” 

Tater’s smile didn’t waver, if anything it seemed to grow at Dustin’s agitation. He was staring him down with those giant brown eyes, nothing but pure joy and affection radiating off of him in waves, and it was a testament to how much time Dustin spent in his orbit that none of it was even the slightest bit unsettling. Maybe Tater stared at him in silence for a beat too long, but Tater was a weird guy, and Dustin was used to it by now.

And maybe Tater leaned down and kissed him flat on the mouth, like it was nothing at all to do it. Tater was a weird guy after all. 

It wasn’t the first time Tater had kissed him. He was an enthusiastic and physically friendly kind of person. It wasn’t even the first time he had kissed Dustin on the mouth. There was a now infamous picture from after a win one year, both of them shirtless and beat from a hard fought game that Dustin had earned a shutout and Tater had taken the final, and only, goal in OT, and Tater had leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth as he had been midway through taking off his pads. 

Dustin still had no idea who had actually taken the picture. Thirdy had it framed and hung in the Trainer’s room. 

Dustin had also witnessed Tater assault Jack, Poots, and at least five other guys on the team in the same manner, and everyone had just chalked it up to Slavic strangeness and moved on. 

But they weren’t celebrating a win, and this wasn’t goofing around in the locker room. They were in their friend and teammates bathroom,in the middle of a party and closed off from the outside world and Tater was kissing Dustin like it was something they did every day. 

The entire thing only lasted a second, but Dustin’s brain had slowed to a crawl. When Tater pulled away he was still smiling, like nothing strange had just happened between them. “Yes, is high fashion,” Tater told him, and it took Dustin a moment to remember what he had even said. It felt like an hour ago, not like a conversation that could just be picked back up.

“Ha,” Dustin said instead of anything intelligent. Tater was bending down, ripping a piece of toilet paper and then running it under the water. Dustin watched with rapt attention, unsure what else to do as he gripped the vanity behind him like a lifeline. 

If Tater wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, then he wasn’t either. It was fine, he told himself quietly. It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. 

“But, maybe this party not ready for that high of fashion,” Tater continued. His hand was back on Dustin’s face then, but it wasn’t so much a grasp anymore as a light touch, encouraging Dustin to turn his head to the side instead of making him. Dustin went easily, his pulse still in his throat and trying desperately to pretend it wasn’t as Tater wiped at the line he had made across Dustin’s face. 

“Maybe.” 

Tater rubbed against his temple, hard enough that he squinted his eye in protest but didn’t move. Tater shifted the grip he had on his chin, sliding his hand up the side of Dustin’s face until he was cupping his cheek as he worked. His thumb was just brushing the edge of Dustin’s mouth. 

“Ta da.” Tater’s voice was just a little quieter than it had been, and his smile wasn’t quite as wide but it was no less genuine. His hand was still pressed against the side of Dustin’s face. “Back to your normal emu self.”

Whatever daze Dustin had been in was immediately shattered as Tater’s grin turned mischievous at the intentional mistake. 

“I’m not a goddamn emu,” Dustin protested. When he pushed himself away from the vanity he was chest to chest with Tater, no where to put his hands once they were uncrossed except to jab an accusing finger between them against Tater. Tater didn’t remove his hand, but let it slide back, fingers tracing through Dustin’ hair beneath the brim of his hat and resting against the back of his neck. 

The bathroom was large enough that they didn’t need to be pressed so close to one another, and there was absolutely no reason for Tater to be touching the back of his neck in the way that he was. It was February in Quebec and Marty had never cared about the cold enough to turn the heat past 67, but Dustin suddenly felt like he was burning through his hoodie. There was too much blood in his face and he could feel his heartbeat back in his throat and somewhere miles away he could hear the party still going on downstairs. 

“They’re such a fucking ugly bird,” he continued for reasons unknown to himself. 

“Oh,” Tater said, still smiling down at him like this wasn’t a ridiculous situation. “Then maybe you not a emu.” Tater’s fingers shifted along the back of his skull, scratching gently against his scalp in a way that was entirely too distracting. “More like...peacock.”

“A peacock?” 

“Yes, very pretty. Always trying to show off, make sure everybody knows you the prettiest.” 

Dustin gaped at him, his own indignation outweighing his awkwardness for a brief moment. “I do not-”

When Tater kissed him the second time, it was not like the first. 

Tater’s grip on his neck was still loose, his fingers pressing against his skin just firm enough that he could feel it but not forcing him to move. While Tater’s hands were gentle his mouth was anything but, nearly knocking their teeth together in his overeagerness. Dustin might have laughed, had he not suddenly forgotten how to breathe as Tater worked his lips against Dustin like they were going to war. Later, Dustin would consider how unsurprising that was, that Tater would apply the same level of over the top exuberance into kissing that he did everything else in his life. In the moment, Dustin couldn’t quite focus on such nunanced realizations, as everything was overshadowed quickly by shock which only lasted a brief second until it gave way to something else entirely. When the heat of moment would inevitably pass, he still wouldn’t know what to label the feeling that came over him. Because while he could admit Tater was attractive, in his own weird lovable lug sort of way, kissing a teammate hadn’t been something Dustin had previously considered. 

So maybe it had been too long since he had hooked up with someone, or maybe Tater was just a really great kisser, or maybe Dustin had gotten so good at lying that he had even tricked himself, but whatever the reason he knew he was the first to deepen the kiss. He was the one who parted his lips against Tater’s and let him slide their tongues against each other. Distantly he could feel Tater’s other hand come to grip his hip, as the one on his neck traveled upwards through his hair, no where near strong enough to be painful, but just enough that Dustin could feel the tug against his scalp and couldn’t stop the soft sound he made against Tater’s mouth. The sound Tater made in return was going to haunt him for weeks to come, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it. 

When Dustin let his teeth graze Tater’s bottom lip they both nearly stumbled, refusing the break apart even as Tater pressed impossibly closer. It forced Dustin hard against the vanity behind him, digging painfully into his spine. Protesting meant parting, and he knew once they stopped they wouldn’t start again. So he swallowed his discomfort in favor of tilting his head to get a better angle, but Tater was one step ahead. He felt the hand in his hair leave and then both of Tater’s palms were pressed against his thighs. Dustin understood what he wanted, and moved his hands from where they had been clutching the front of Tater’s shirt to slide around his neck. 

Dustin couldn’t say he was used to the feeling of being lifted. He also couldn’t say he didn’t like it. 

Tater hands were still clutching his thighs, pulling them flush against one another as Dustin sat perched on the edge of the vanity, arms still tight around his neck, when someone pounded on the door. 

He didn’t realize how warm Tater was until he was suddenly gone, standing three feet away with his back against the opposite wall. Dustin scrambled to get back on his feet, his sneaker squeaking far too loud in the otherwise silence of the bathroom as he tried to turn to look at himself in the mirror like he had been doing that all along.

“If you two love birds are done defacing Marty’s bathroom, a couple of us are going down to the fire pit by the lake,” Thirdy called through the door, sounding far too amused for how hard Dustin’s heart was hammering in his chest. He heard Tater open the door as Dustin continued to inspect his eyeliner, making sure it was up par as he also looked himself over for any possible signs of what had just happened.

“I’m come,” Tater said, and Dustin didn’t know if he was relieved or annoyed at how normal Tater sounded. He didn’t try to speak right away, not trusting his own voice. His hat had fallen into the sink, and he raked a hand through his hair as he put it securely back on his head. His eyes were glued to his own mouth in the mirror, but no matter how hard he stared he couldn’t see any evidence that Tater’s tongue had just been there seconds before. 

“Are you coming Snowy?” 

Dustin couldn’t stare at his face any longer without it seeming strange, so he forced himself to school his features and face both men currently staring at him from the doorway. Thirdy was leaning against the frame, looking the picture of ease and comfort at a laid back party at a friend’s house. Tater’s grin was back in place, but when he met Dustin’s eyes, there was a crease between his brows. It was the only sign of anything being wrong, but Dustin knew Tater well enough to recognize what panic looked like on him. 

“Yeah, I’m coming.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” Thirdy pushed off the doorframe and was out of sight in a second. He didn’t seem to notice Dustin and Tater’s inability to break eye contact. 

The silence between them wasn’t long, but it was loud. 

“Are you coming?” Tater asked again, despite that Dustin had just told them he was. The crease between his eyebrows was deeper now that Thirdy was gone, his smile more diluted than it had been a second ago.

This was the part where Dustin gave them an out. Laughed about how drunk they were. Rounded up the three beers and handful of lone shots he’d had to a more reasonable number to excuse what had just happened. He could pretend he hadn’t been at Tater’s side the entire evening and hadn’t watched him drink even less. 

The lie got stuck on his tongue, and instead he offered what he hoped was a consoling smile to ease Tater’s nerves. Somehow the light punch he tried to deliver to Tater’s bicep became a squeeze instead, and when he spoke his voice was softer than he intended. “Of course. Lead the way big guy.” 

Tater’s answering grin was worth the self doubt creeping in his bones. Before he could say anything else, Tater was swooping back into his space, and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Like it was normal. Like this was a thing now. 

And then Tater was gone, heading back down the stairs after Thirdy and leaving Dustin to catch up. 

“You two have fun?” He heard Marty ask from down the stairs. 

“Snowy always going to let me do his makeup now. I’m much better than he is at it.”

Dustin could hear the laughter as he slammed the bathroom door closed behind him. His brain was still reeling, trying to catch up to what had just happened, and his cheek was burning where Tater’s mouth had brushed so gently against his skin. Ignoring all of that, or at least trying his best to do so, he shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and made sure to roll his eyes as he descended the stairs. 

“Man, shut the fuck up.” 

The rest of their group laughed at his expense, and then quickly turned their attention elsewhere as everyone began the process of sorting out their gloves and hats and coats. Downstairs everything felt different than it had a minute ago. The normality of his team chirping around him felt grounding, like he was back in the real world. Like everything was the same as it had been when the evening had started.

And if he felt his chest tighten in unbridled fondness when Tater stuck his tongue out at him before trying to close the door in his face, then that was his business and no one else’s.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> [ **Tumblr.** ](http://dexondefense.tumblr.com/)


End file.
